


Nightmare

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21999454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Dev had meant everything to her growing up. Her classmates had been jealous when she told her stories – not because he had magic, but because their older brothers sometimes got nasty and said mean things, and Dev had always been nice to her, even when he’d been impatient or angry. He'd shown her magic tricks and played with her and laughed with her.He'd loved her, and she had loved him.And she had forgotten he existed.A fanfiction inspired by imaginationtherapy's Rusty Cage.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday, Peter Jakes & Endeavour Morse
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rusty Cage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033488) by [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy). 



> When I read in Chapter 19 of Rusty Cage (go read it if you haven't already!) that Joan had nightmares about Dev pushing his family away, I couldn't resist asking imaginationtherapy if I could play around with it. Enjoy!

Joan was filing some papers when she suddenly felt dizzy, but it went away when she shook her head. Mindy was still telling her about the man she had dumped the previous night.

“It’s really unfair. I mean, the only two good men left in Oxford are your brothers, one of them leaves and you won’t allow me to ask the other one out –“

It took her a moment to understand.

Two brothers. Two brothers.

Dev.

Oh my God, _Dev_.

She grabbed her things and was halfway into her coat before she remembered to call out, “Please, tell them I had to leave. Family emergency.”

She more or less ran the whole way to Cowley station, memories of Dev bouncing around in her mind.

_“Do another one!”_

_“Fine, Joanie, but remember, magic is –“_

_“I know, I know, we have to be very responsible, now do another one!”_

* * *

_"_ _That was very nice, Joanie.”_

_She beamed with pride. “Like Rosalind Calloway?”_

_Dev chuckled, although she would only understand years later why, his fingers once more dancing across the piano keys. “No, much better.”_

* * *

_“I am never going to get algebra.”_

_“You just have to figure out how to solve certain problems. Let me try and explain…”_

* * *

Dev had meant _everything_ to her growing up. Her classmates had been jealous when she told her stories – not because he had magic, but because their older brothers sometimes got nasty and said mean things, and Dev had always been nice to her, even when he’d been impatient or angry. He'd shown her magic tricks and played with her and laughed with her.

He'd loved her, and she had loved him.

And she had forgotten he existed.

It was terrible.

But now, she remembered ( _You’ll always be my favouritest big brother, Devy_ , Oh God), she _remembered_. And she would never forget again.

She all but barrelled into the station. A young blonde woman – she thought Dad had mentioned her in passing once, but it didn’t matter – tried to politely hold her back, but she was having none of it.

Later, when she had realized, she would think it was strange that Dev looked at the one holding the receiver so coldly, or that Peter Jakes was wearing such an anxious expression.

Dad’s face was not something she would like to recall.

But then, she didn’t know yet, and so she cried out “Dev!” and moved to hug him tightly to her, burying her had in his shoulder.

It took her several moments to notice that Dev didn’t hug her back, and, assuming it was the shock of her remembering him, she stooped back and smiled encouragingly.

The cold expression didn’t change as he met her gaze, then he turned back to the man on the telephone. “Sergeant, please tell him there’s work to do. I don’t have time to talk to anyone right now.”

“But mat – Captain – he really sounds like he wants to talk to you, just for a minute…”

“Dev, I really think you should –“ Peter Jakes tried but he shut him down.

“This is entirely my decision, Commander.”

“Of course” he immediately back-tracked, shooting Dad a guilty look.

“What are you doing here, Miss Thursday?” he inquired, as if it didn’t matter, as if she hadn’t just remembered…

The suspicion that now _Dev_ was the one who had forgotten darted into her mind. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Dev, it’s me, Joanie, your baby sister…”

“I am very aware of our relations.”

She swallowed. “Dev –“ she tried hugging him again, but he stepped back.

“Like I said, there is lot of work to do, especially since the culprit committed suicide.”

“But Dev –“

And then the worst of all.

Suddenly, there was Mum in the doorway. “Dev? Do you know who I am?”

“My mother” he replied carelessly, dodging her hug, not even accepting it like Joan’s, “Or at least the woman who raised me as her own. Yes.”

“Oh Dev –“

Mum hadn’t yet realized, and it made the next minute a horrible thing to behold. She wanted nothing more than to draw her boy into her arms, and Dev kept explaining that there were things he had to do and coordinate, and that he really didn’t have time for this, and that all civilians really should leave.

It was terrible. Joan felt tears prick behind her eyes, but what was infinitely worse was seeing a few glitter in Mum’s too.

Peter Jakes, in the meantime, had grabbed the phone and was talking to Sam, urgently and quietly, still looking so very apologetic it made Joan want to slap him.

Mum, desperate for anything, finally jumped on something else. “But you’ll come home for dinner tonight, won’t you, Endeavour?”

He shrugged. “I will see if I have the time.”

And that was how they were forced to leave things, with Dev sweeping out of the room, apparently after the Chairman to talk about some thing or the other, and Mum staring after him, looking lost.

Peter Jakes followed Dev with one last gentle expression of “explaining things later”.

It was Superintendent Bright who sent them home, or rather, who told Dad to take them home.

Mum only spoke one time during the entire drive, and when she did, it was to quietly say, “He wouldn’t let me hold him.”

Joan didn’t answer because somehow, it felt awful to think that she at least had gotten to hug him, and that it might have been the last time that he allowed any of them do so.

The second they came home, she went to the phone. Sam deserved an explanation, or at least something like it.

She had finally hung up – Sam reacting as dumbstruck as she felt – when the door bell rang. In an instant, her imagination painted a picture of Dev having realized what had happened and hastening home to tell them that he hadn’t meant to treat them the way he had, that he didn’t resent them for forgetting him for one and a half decades; but instead it was Peter Jakes who was standing on their doorstep, looking worse than he had at the station. “Miss Thursday. May I come in?”

“Joan, please” she begged as she stepped aside. Ever since Dev had called her that, she didn’t even want to imagine being addressed as such again – it didn’t make sense, of course, and she would have to hear herself being referred to as Miss Thursday at work tomorrow anyway, but lots of things didn’t make sense anymore.

He nodded. “Where are your –“

“Kitchen. Mum’s making tea.”

He nodded, then followed her into the room. “Sir. Mrs. Thursday.”

“Jakes.”

Mum just nodded, apparently lost for words.

Peter bit his lip. Joan had never seen him look so unsure of himself. “I… I’d noticed he’d been growing colder for a while, but I thought… I hoped… it wasn’t…” he swallowed. “I – I’ve been trying to talk to him about it, but… he’s been distancing himself from me as well.”

Joan wanted to lash out at him – was he honestly talking about _his_ feelings at a moment like this? –but when he looked into her eyes she knew the truth.

Peter was hurting too. Best friends, Dad had said they were. And if Dev had indeed grown cold and embittered, that would be difficult to maintain…

“He doesn’t know I’m here” he rushed out. “He sent me to hand in a report to the Council, they were kind enough to assure me they wouldn’t let him know. Dev is… very highly respected, you know.”

 _But do they like him_ , Joan thought. Can _they like him, when his heart has grown so indifferent that he won’t even let Mum hug him?_

It wasn’t his fault, of course; it was the spell, the spell that had slowly drained all hope and joy from him because it had taken them from him, or him from them, Joan couldn’t say.

“I – I thought that, once he realized… but he’s been the same all afternoon.”

Mum had automatically offered him tea as well, much to Peter’s embarrassment. It was explained why he felt that way when he told them something that was sure to pierce Dad’s heart to the core.

Cradling his mug, he said quietly, “He’s insisting on being known as Captain Morse… says he built the Guard up as Morse, and that so that’s what he will stay.”

She knew what it had always meant to Dad that they were known as _the Thursday children_. The ones in the street who you could trust with small chores, who were not breaking windows or screaming while running around, the well-behaved kiddies.

And now he just wanted to be Morse. Morse; a made-up name, a name a malevolent spell had created, a name that essentially meant nothing, just proclaimed to the world that he was alone and wanted to be.

Dev had always been so happy playing with them. But now he had stepped away from her embrace, from Mum's arms like it didn't matter.

And here was Peter, the man she had once gone out with (and only now did she realize it must have been a desperate try to reconnect with the man he still thought of as his best friend on his part), attempting to soften the blow, speaking of how well-known Dev was, how many people he had helped over the years, how many evildoers were in jail because of him, and she thought of Sam's confused voice on the phone and realized it meant nothing. Not if they couldn't be a family now that they remembered.

* * *

Dev didn't come for dinner, only calling at seven pm to talk about his responsibilities, and Joan decided she had to do something.

The next day, she didn't eat her sandwich in the park; instead, she went to Guard headquarters. Peer had divulged the address when he had come to see them.

When she explained to the young woman - a lieutenant, it seemed - who had immediately stepped up to her once she had set foot in the building what she was doing here, she looked at her with pity in her eyes, and for a moment, Joan couldn't help but hate her. "Of course, Miss Thursday. The Captain is in his office."

They passed Peter, who was talking to another officer; he merely raised his head to nod at her and Joan realized with horror that he had been crying.

Dev knew where he had then yesterday, and there had been a fight about it.

Still, as soon as the lieutenant had led her to Dev's door, she knocked.

"Come in."

She did so.

Dev's officer was stark; empty; quite frankly, it felt... cold. Not at all like the brother she remembered. A place to work, with no personal mementoes.

“Miss Thursday” he said, apparently surprised to see her, getting up.

“Joanie” she insisted.

“Miss Thursday” he corrected her dispassionately, “How may I –“

“Don’t, Devy, please” she begged.

Some emotion she couldn’t read crossed his face for a second, but then he shook his head. “I haven’t been Devy in a long time.”

“You could be again” she tried. “We’re family –“

“We used to be.” He stepped up to the window, not looking at her. “But that was fifteen years ago.”

“But we could try –“

“No. We can’t.”

There was so much finality, so much carelessness in his voice that she couldn’t bring herself to reply.

The next thing she knew, she was walking down a corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The same tears were in her eyes as she woke up, her heart hammering.

It was dark, still night time.

 _It was a dream,_ she told herself _, Dev is home, Dev wanted nothing more than to go home, and he did._

_But what if he isn’t there._

She couldn’t stop herself; she slipped out of bed and went in search for him.

When she opened the door to his and Sam’s room, she all but threw herself at him with a relieved sob.

He awoke immediately, his instincts having been honed by decades of working for both the police and the Guard. “…Joan?”

She found herself unable to answer as she kept crying. She heard him murmur, perform several spells in quick succession – one was a detection spell, making certain nothing dangerous had entered the house, another one ensured that they wouldn’t disturb Sam, that they’d stay in their own little bubble of silence for a while.

“What is it?” He sat up and she buried her head in his chest.

“You had a nightmare” he then said, just like he had when they were children and she had run to him at night, feeling incredibly small and scared and helpless.

And finally, haltingly, slowly, she managed to tell him.

He rubbed her back. “Oh Joanie.”

Hearing him calling her by her nickname made things better. She stopped crying, at least.

“I’m back” he assured her, kissing her head. “I’m back and I won’t ever leave again. I promise.”

It was not a promise she truly could imagine he would be able to keep, not with the work he was doing, but it comforted her nonetheless.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” she had done this many times, back when she was young and believed that the monsters her mind came up with were real.

His slight hesitation pierced her heart, but her pain was done away with when he answered, “Sammy’s going to have a field day.”

“I don’t mind, Devy” she said quietly.

“Of course you can stay.”

She snuggled back into his chest as he tucked them both in, feeling her brother’s heartbeat against her fingertips.

Dev had come back to them, Dev would never leave again.

Everything was fine.


End file.
